And now I'm falling. Falling head first into my death.
This is it, this is where my journey ends.
I tripped then I fell, now I'm falling.
I close my eyes and squeeze them shut.
Curl my toes tight and crush my knuckles till the skin is white.
I'm like a wad of crumpled paper, used, ruined, and demolished.
Since I'm falling I might as well enjoy the view.
I open up my lifeless eyes and look around.
I can see the things that have gone unnoticed,
the small things that count.
All these things are profoundly beautiful,
and I have never noticed them.
Then I realize falling, is flying. I'm not falling, no I'm flying.
I'm not heading towards my death, I'm escaping to my freedom.
My eyes aren't lifeless their vibrant.
My wad of crumpled paper is being recycled.
My falling is my new flying.
I discovered I never fell, I simply flew
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